


beautiful girl (stay with me)

by Umbrella_ella



Series: Wrackspurts, Hinkypunks, and other Magic [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, First Meetings, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:21:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24560737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Umbrella_ella/pseuds/Umbrella_ella
Summary: Dudley is quite certain that magic isn't all that bad, despite what his parents think. He still doesn't know what wrackspurts are, despite the fact that Luna keeps talking about them.A series of connected Dudley/Luna ficlets.
Relationships: Dudley Dursley/Luna Lovegood
Series: Wrackspurts, Hinkypunks, and other Magic [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1775233
Comments: 3
Kudos: 16





	beautiful girl (stay with me)

He sees her walking down the street as he's closing up the shop, her bright ringlets of pale blonde bouncing in tandem with her cheery steps. She's dressed oddly, and he thinks of Harry's friends and of their strange clothes, but he can't quite remember seeing such a shock of pink paisley on anyone, even those of the magical persuasion. Dudley has always had a passing fascination with magic, albeit a healthy fear of trick candies and pink frosted cakes, and he suspects this is more than magic. 

Perhaps. 

He tries to see where she goes, but loses sight of her in a sudden crush of university students telling sordid jokes and crumpling chip bags in their palms. He curses them under his breath and gives it little thought as he pockets the keys and begins the short walk to his lonely flat. 

The next time he sees her, she comes into the shop, her strange earrings jangling loudly as she looks for someone at the counter. Dudley nearly drops the box of nails on his foot, but mercifully catches it in time. 

"Be right there!" he all but shouts as he scrambles to stack the crate on top of the others in a rickety parody of the Leaning Tower of Pisa.

He desperately attempts to calm his breathing before he looks like a gaping trout in front of her. She looks strange, orange wellingtons nearly knee high, plum and fuscia robes wrapped closely around her, bright yellow scarf draped about her neck. 

She's beautiful. 

"How can I help you?" he says, and the practiced way the words slip out help calm the thundering of his heartbeat and the twist of his insides. 

"Do you have a net strong enough for a hinkypunk? Only, Daddy says the one in the shed is frayed and the Floo is down." 

Dudley Dursley has no idea what a hinkypunk is, nor why the flu is up or down at all, but he grins away, smile eager and probably too much, but the woman doesn't seem to mind, her eyes drifting up towards the top of his head, and Dudley pats down his hair, ruffled from sleep, as though she's judging him. 

"Oh, dear, you have a terrible case of wrackspurts. You should invest in earplugs," she remarks, and then, just as though she'd never said a word, she asks,"Nets?"

Dudley flushes, his mind clearing, and says, "Ah, nets, yes. Erm, right. This way." 

Her blue eyes shine, twinkling as if she knew everything about him in that moment. Dudley swallows. Soft footfalls follow him as he weaves through the aisles of the hardware shop. He deposits her in front of the nets and shifts, about to go back to his shelving, but her puzzled expression beckons him. 

"Er, here, this one's best, I think," he says, not mentioning that the likelyhood of catching a hinkypunk with any sort of normal net is incredibly low. Maybe he'd write Harry about them. 

They'd talked some over the years, and Harry had even sent a Christmas card with the Potter family, the newest member caught mid-fit, red-faced and screaming, and the oldest of the two children, James, casting wide-eyed glances toward his mother every now and again. Moving pictures are fascinating to Dudley, but even more so was the fact that he had recieved a card at all. It was taped onto his fridge next to a terse note from his mother. 

The woman takes the pro-offered net with a hum of approval. 

"This will do," she says airly as she strides back to the counter, waiting patiently for Dudley to catch up. 

"I'm Luna by the way. Daddy and I live on the hill just north of town," she remarks, and his brow furrows. Last he'd remembered, there hadn't been a house up there, but then, he'd been half-pissed and stumbling in the dark. Luna is a beautiful name, and he wonders what it would sound like slipping from between his lips.

"'M Dudley," he replies as though she might remember it. She smiles, true and vibrant, and her eyes meet his and it's as though she sees him for the first time, because she brightly thanks him and pressing a pile of coins into his palm. 

It's not until the door glides shut that he looks down, brightly colored bronze, silver, and gold coins peering back at him. A pang of regret lances through his chest and he's not certain why, and he's even less certain he likes it.


End file.
